


Hold Me Till Winter

by MarchOfTheFalseHeteros



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Christmas, F/F, F/M, HIV/AIDS, Hanukkah, Holidays, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Sexual Content, Slurs, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9635132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarchOfTheFalseHeteros/pseuds/MarchOfTheFalseHeteros
Summary: Scenes from all three couples' relationships in the winter. Chapter 1 takes place the night Marvin and Whizzer met, Chapter 2 on Christmas night a year later, Chapter 3 during Winter 1981, and Chapter 4 during Hanukkah one year following Whizzer's death.This is partially inspired by this (https://soundcloud.com/ericwhitacre/winter) choral piece composed by Eric Whitacre, the text of which is taken from a poem by Edward Esch, quoted at the beginning of each chapter. Each chapter is, in turn, inspired by a different section of the piece.Chapter 1- 0:00-3:47Chapter 2- 3:48-5:12Chapter 3- 5:13-8:46Chapter 4- 8:47-11:09





	1. December 13, 1978

"I. The snow is falling,  
sleeping,  
whispering,  
dreaming of water…

Marvin was walking alone along the snow-covered streets, his cheeks burning from the blood rushing towards them to protect against the frigid Manhattan winds. He was often alone on cold nights like these, usually by his own choice. The longer he could distance himself from Trina, for whom he had begun to feel less and less in the past few months, the better. Jason was usually in bed long before he returned, so it didn’t make much difference there. But, he thought to himself, was it merely prolonging the inevitable? No matter what time he returned, he’d get the same speech. “Why are you home so late?; you’re married to your job; I miss you,” and all that. He felt bad, he supposed, but he couldn’t help how he felt. He wasn’t in love with her. He never had been.  
He soon found himself standing in front of a bar. He looked up at the sign- Stonewall. Should he? No. “How many times have we been over this?” he thought. “You’re not gay. That’s over. You have a family now.” He was freezing, though. Maybe just a drink. That didn’t mean anything, did it?  
The neon pink and orange lights made his head ache. He could barely hear the bartender take his order- a dry martini with olives. One drink, and then he’d leave. That’s it. He decided that, since he was already there, he might as well look around. All buff, mostly mustachioed men in tank tops grinding on each other. This is why he couldn’t be gay- this wasn’t the life for him. This wasn’t who he was. His eyes moved to the stage in the middle of the bar. The drag queen onstage was wearing an enormous blonde wig and a revealing Santa Claus-esque costume, and was lipsyncing to Eartha Kitt’s Santa Baby. “Whoever she- he?- is, she has great legs,” thought Marvin. “Wait- no. No, she doesn’t. She’s a he. He’s a fag. I’m not a fag—“  
At that moment, the drag queen turned her back to the audience, revealing her rather prominent posterior.  
“I’M SUCH A FAG.”  
He finished his martini, but for some reason he was still sitting there. The drag queen had finished her act long ago. Was he waiting for her? He wasn’t sure. God, Trina’s gonna be pissed. Might as well be drunk for that. He ordered a second martini.  
“I got it,” said a voice next to him.  
When he turned around to see where the voice came from, he saw a young, boyish-faced brunette in a pink polo. Something inside of him felt a sudden warm, tingling feeling , but it wasn’t from the alcohol.  
“No, thank you,” Marvin said, not daring to make eye contact.  
“I insist,” said the mystery man, already having pulled out a 20 from his wallet.  
“Really, it’s okay,” said Marvin more insistently.  
“Too late,” the mystery man teased, for the bartender had already grabbed it and handed back his change.  
“You didn’t have to do that,” said Marvin, looking at his glass.  
“Well, I wanted to,” said the boy, scooting closer to him. “You looked like you could use a hand,” he added, about to put his hand on Marvin’s shoulder.  
“Stop it!” protested Marvin, slapping the boy’s hand away. “I’m not interested, buddy, okay? I only came in here because it’s fucking freezing out and I wanted to get a drink, and it was the closest bar I could find. I’m not a queer, got it?”  
“Ouch. Point taken,” said the boy, clearly not used to being snubbed. “You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”  
“Look, I’m sorry,” Marvin said with a sigh, “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, ya know?”  
“Yeah,” said the boy with a wounded air.  
“Look…I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Marvin. Marvin Cohen.”  
The boy thought a moment, then obliged.  
“Whizzer. Whizzer Brown.” Then, off of Marvin’s look: “And yes, that is my real name. Don’t ask.”  
Marvin laughed softly. “Okay, I won’t.”  
He then noticed something in the corner of Whizzer’s eye- a small black line.  
“Are you wearing makeup?” he asked.  
Whizzer looked embarrassed for a moment. “Maybe.”  
Marvin started to put it together. Now that he thought about it, his face did look familiar, as did his legs, at least from what he could tell by how his jeans were packed.  
“Was that you onstage in the Santa outfit?”  
“Shh, keep your voice down,” Whizzer said in a hushed tone. “I don’t like to ruin the magic for these fine patrons, you see.” He gestured to the crowd of still-grinding wrestler types.  
“Well, if I may say so,” said Marvin, chuckling, “you looked very lovely up there. You look good as a blonde.”  
“Of course you may say so,” said Whizzer, grinning and biting his lip.  
Marvin felt the warm, tingling sensation again, although he hadn’t touched his second drink.  
——————————————————————————————---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Trina sat at the kitchen counter, head in hands, a glass of moscato nearly empty next to her. Jason was asleep, so there was no one around to hear her sniffling. Why wasn’t he home yet? He always does this. She would slave away on his dinner, only for him to be over an hour late from work, sometimes more, and immediately go to bed. She had put it back in the fridge, but she knew he was never going to eat it. Just once she would like some appreciation for all she did for him. Was that so much to ask? They hadn’t even had sex in- God, she didn’t even know how long. She felt stupid asking, but hey, he never initiated it. She was tired of relying on her fingers to calm her down after a long day.  
Finally, she heard the front door click. She staggered out of her chair and walked unsteadily to the front door. Marvin’s hair was rumpled, his tie slightly undone, and his sleeves haphazardly rolled up.  
“Hi,” he said casually.  
“HI?!” Trina said louder than she intended, folding her arms. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”  
“Why are you still up, then?” he sighed, not looking at her. He started taking off his tie and moving towards the stairs.  
“Marvin!” she called, stumbling after him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I hate when you do this. Do you have any idea how it makes me feel? It’s like you don’t care about this family.”  
“Oh, for God’s sake,” groaned Marvin, “I have to work late to support this family. Grow up.”  
“YOU grow up! Talk to me! Tell me where you’ve been!” she shouted.  
“Have you been drinking?” Marvin asked, ignoring her, although he already knew the answer. He always knew when she had been drinking. Her red face and bleary eyes gave it away.  
“Like you haven’t. I smell it, genius. So you’ve been downing martinis at work, huh?”  
“Oh my GOD,” Marvin exclaimed, “I don’t need this; I’m going to bed. You should too.”  
The question Trina had been meaning to ask for some time now, but had been afraid to, began to bubble up from inside her, her fear having been dissolved by the wine.  
“Are you sleeping with someone?”  
Marvin paused, inhaling sharply. He didn’t need to explain anything to her. He ran the rest of the way up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door.  
Trina began to call after him, but she knew it was no use. She grabbed her wine glass, downed the rest of it, crawled onto the couch, and went to sleep. The frigid Manhattan winds began to seep in through the windows, and she began to shiver.  
——————————————————————————————---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
It was almost closing time at Cordelia’s bakery. She had begun to get sick of the smell of gingerbread. Plus, working two jobs just before Christmas was taking its toll on her. Just a little over a week till the holidays were over (she didn’t even want to think about how busy she would be then), and then she’d have a bit of a break. Hell, just getting through the holidays in general was usually hard. She rang up her last customer, smiling cordially, but in reality she was exhausted. She grabbed a broom from the back closet and began to sweep, until she heard a voice.  
“Oh…I’m sorry,” the voice- rich, warm, and oddly familiar-said.  
Cordelia looked up and nearly dropped the broom. It was Charlotte, the pretty black doctor she had met at the coffee shop only a few weeks before. She had gotten her number then, but she had been too nervous to call. She hoped to God she didn’t hate her for it.  
“Oh, God… it’s you! Oh my God, hi! I didn’t…I mean…I’m glad to- How crazy is it that we ran into each other again?” Why could she not keep from babbling when she was around?  
“Yeah, I know,” Charlotte said, smiling, “I’m really sorry to come in right when you’re closing, but I’m desperate. My mother’s coming in for a week- she’s spending Christmas with us- and she insisted on having banana bread. I’ve looked in every bakery this side of the city, but they’re all out. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?’  
Cordelia thought. She was sure she had an extra loaf prepared in the back. Sure enough, there was- only one.  
“It’s your lucky day! This is the last in the entire store!” she proudly proclaimed, holding it aloft as she came around the counter again.  
“Oh, thank God! You have no idea how much nagging you’ve saved me. My mother can be a beast when she doesn’t get her sweets. You’re the best. Thank you.”  
“Oh God-no-“ Cordelia stammered. “I mean- thank you. I’m so sorry- I don’t know what happens to my brain-“  
“It’s okay,” Charlotte said gently, touching her shoulder, nearly causing Cordelia to go limp. “But…there’s one thing I’m curious about,” she continued, her face falling slightly.  
Oh, shit, thought Cordelia. Here it comes.  
“Why haven’t you called me since I gave you my number? You seemed really interested when we met. What’s up?”  
Cordelia began to shake. “Look…it’s not that I don’t like you. Far from it. It’s just…” She paused, and lowered her voice, even though no one else was around. “I’ve never really felt… okay with being a lesbian. My parents didn’t take it too well when I told them. I mean, they didn’t disown me or anything like that. It just wasn’t something I was supposed to talk about. I don’t know.”  
Charlotte nodded understandingly. She realized then how good she had it. She had a feeling her own parents had known she was gay from the moment she came out of the womb.  
“Also,” Cordelia continued, almost crying, “I don’t think I’m good enough for you. I mean…look at you. A doctor. And look at me. I’m a baker working two jobs and still barely making ends meet. You clearly deserve someone better.”  
“Hey…” Charlotte soothed, putting her hands on Cordelia’s shoulders again. “You’re plenty good enough for me. Okay? Haven’t you ever heard that the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach?” she added, chuckling.  
Cordelia giggled, and met Charlotte’s deep brown eyes with her own baby blues. Her instinct was to look away nervously, but she couldn’t.  
“What do you say you finish closing up, and we go have a little nightcap down the street? We can talk more there,“ said Charlotte softly.  
“Yeah,” replied Cordelia, no longer nervous, “I’d like that.”  
The frigid Manhatten winds stung their faces as they walked, and Cordelia’s pale cheeks burned bright as tomatoes. Charlotte noticed.  
“You warm enough?”  
“Y-yeah, I’m f-f-f-fine,” shivered Cordelia.  
“C’mere,” said Charlotte, taking Cordelia’s gloved hand in hers, and leading her toward the nearest streetlamp. “Let me warm you up.”  
She kissed her gently, and all of a sudden Cordelia couldn’t remember her own name. She didn’t care if someone saw. All that mattered was this- her.


	2. December 25, 1979

II.  
Gold, silver, iron, stone,  
pure and gentle,  
silently melting,  
the sun sings softly through the quiet ice…

“How can you not be freezing?” Marvin asked, squinting through the heavily drifting snow at his lover, clad only in a bright green cardigan and his signature pink polo and tight blue jeans.  
“Wh-who s-s-says I’m n-not?” shivered Whizzer, wrapping his arms around himself.  
“I don’t understand you- I would never sacrifice warmth for fashion," said Marvin, shoving his hands in the pockets of his puffy gray coat.  
“Y-yeah, I kn-kn-know,” said Whizzer, grimacing at the memory of some of his lover’s interesting fashion choices.  
“I know you’re miserable- you always get bitchy when you’re uncomfortable in some way.,” said Marvin.  
“Oh, p-p-please,” snarked Whizzer. “I’m b-bitchy 24/7.”  
Marvin chuckled, and, taking pity on him, removed his puffy gray coat and draped it over his partner’s shoulders, who, despite his protests, breathed a sigh of relief at its touch. Marvin, never one to venture out in such treacherous weather unprepared, had put on a thick cotton wool sweater underneath his gray coat, and as such, was not so terribly fazed by its removal. They strolled for a little while, their boots softly pressing into the new-fallen snow, admiring the twinkling red and green lights of downtown. They had to give the goyim credit where it was due- they sure knew how to decorate. Marvin looked down at his lover’s hands for a moment- Jesus, he hadn’t even brought gloves? Was he TRYING to freeze to death? After a quick survey of who was around- no one, save for one or two goyim frantically rushing home with a ham or turkey, not paying them any mind- he took Whizzer’s hand, and put it into his own pocket. He felt a squeeze of appreciation, and then a sense of someone passing behind them, and then he heard it:  
“Faggots.”  
It honestly took him a moment to process it. He had been called that name so many times on the schoolyard, to which he had usually responded with scoffing denial. He had referred to himself as one many times before, but this was different. However, was it really worth it to confront some random asshole about it? Whizzer, on the other hand, was not so conflicted. He tore his hand out of Marvin’s pocket, bolted after the asshole, and shoved him against the nearest wall.  
“What the FUCK did you just call me?” he shouted, an inch from the man’s face.  
“A faggot. You are one, aren’t you?” the asshole said, trying in vain not to sound intimidated.  
“Who gives a shit who I fuck or who fucks me?” Whizzer said, much quieter now, but now nearly touching noses with the asshole. “This is America, I can fuck or get fucked by whoever I want, and until you’re the president, you can’t do a damn thing about it. So until then, I suggest you keep your comments to yourself. Got it, sweetie?”  
“Okay, fine,” said the man, nearly squeaking now.  
“Good. I’m glad we understand each other,” said Whizzer, releasing him. “Merry fucking Christmas,” he added, as the man sprinted away. As he walked back to Marvin, who had watched the whole thing from the sidewalk, he was met, to his surprise, by a glare.  
“What the hell was that?” said Marvin, crossing his arms.  
“Justice,” said Whizzer smarmily.  
“Was that really necessary?” said Marvin, frowning.  
“What, was I supposed to let him just get away with that?”  
“I don’t know, but… pick your battles, ya know?” said Marvin, lowering his head.  
“Babe…” said Whizzer, putting his hand on his lover’s cheek, but looking him straight in the eyes. “If we let things like this happen, they win. We don’t matter to them-“  
“Exactly!” Marvin interrupted, pushing Whizzer’s hand away, a lump gathering in his throat. “So what’s the issue then?”  
“If you let me finish…” began Whizzer with a sigh, “…we don’t matter to them. That’s why we need to show them we matter. No more hiding. I was through with that back in high school. No more checking who’s around just so you can hold my hand. Let’s pretend we’re normal.” He took Marvin’s face in his hands again. “We ARE normal.”  
A single tear fell from Marvin’s eye, stinging his cheek as it froze in response to the frigid Manhattan winds. Whizzer saw it, and kissed it away, then kissed his lover’s blue-tinged lips.  
“Merry half-Christmas, babe,” Marvin whispered.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The movie theatre was nearly empty, as it usually was on Christmas Day. This had been a tradition for Trina, Marvin, and Jason while the two were still married, and she wasn’t about to give it up just because of the divorce. Besides, what else was a proud Jewish mother supposed to do today? Marvin wasn't in attendance this time around, however. He and Whizzer had...well, plans. She tried her damnedest not to think too much about that. She had decided to invite Mendel instead- after all, he had already had several sessions with Jason, so they seemed to get along fine. Besides, he didn’t have any plans. This wasn’t weird, right?  
The movie in question was The Black Hole, a Disney flick chosen by Jason mainly because the poster reminded him of Star Wars, his obsession for which had been introduced to him by his father. As they filed into the cinema, still warming up from the frigid Manhattan winds outside, Jason bolted to the top row, hopping over row after row of seats to get there.  
“Jason!” Trina called. “Please don’t jump on the furniture.”  
“Who cares, Mom? No one else is here.”  
Trina groaned, and felt a sudden rush of lightheadedness come over her. She grabbed onto a nearby seat’s armrests, fearing she would faint. Mendel noticed, and quickly set the large tub of popcorn he was carrying on the nearest seat, putting his hands on her shoulders.  
“Trina…what’s wrong?”  
“I don’t know,” she gasped. “I just felt faint all of a sudden. My stomach’s probably just empty- that’s all. After I have some popcorn I’ll be fine.”  
Mendel raised his eyebrows in concern, but nonetheless allowed her to stand upright and make her way up the stairs to where Jason was already planted in a center seat, eyes fixed on the screen despite the fact that the commercials hadn’t ended yet.  
The lights dimmed about ten minutes later, and despite being only one of three (well, two and a half) people in the theatre, Trina began to feel surrounded, as if her bones were being compressed beneath her skin. The opening credits began to roll, displaying starry shots of the solar system (Jesus, this WAS just Star Wars), and Trina could no longer suppress the urge to weep. Mendel heard a faint sniffle, and looked over to see her face, dimly lit by the flashing screen in front of them, faintly glistening with tears, which she tried desperately to conceal from the still-much-too-invested Jason. After a brief moment of checking that Jason wouldn’t notice they were gone (his eyes were still glued to the screen), he took Trina’s hand and let her out to the lobby, then out the doors into an ever-growing snowfall, taking a moment for their eyes to adjust to the shift in lighting.  
“Okay…tell me what’s up,” Mendel said gently, but firmly.  
“Please, do we have to do this now? I just want to have a nice night,” Trina said, tears still falling from her eyes.  
“And we can. But you have to talk to me first,” said Mendel, making a slight breach of etiquette by taking her hand in his, at which Trina balked for a moment, but soon accepted when she saw the genuine concern in his eyes.  
“I don’t know…”  
“Talk it out.”  
“I just…I guess I just miss him. Marvin, that is. This was something we always loved doing, and it doesn’t seem right that he’s off doing who-knows-what with someone else. I want to be mad at him, but…he’s being himself now. Whoever that is. I still love him. I do. A fu—I mean, screwed up part of me wishes he would have just suppressed that part of himself so we could have stayed a family.” She began to sniffle again, and buried her head in her hands. Mendel made a slightly larger breach in etiquette and put a hand on either cheek, lifting her face to meet his.  
“You are still a family. It may not be conventional, and he may still make mistakes, but you’re a family.”  
Trina, for reasons even years later she couldn’t articulate, impulsively kissed him. It was brief, but she still felt the earth stop beneath her when their lips met even for the second that they did.  
“Oh God…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me- that was wildly inappropriate-“ she stammered incoherently, before being cut off by Mendel gently putting a hand over her mouth.  
“Do it again,” he said staggeringly, struggling to hide his arousal.  
After a moment of making sure they were alone, they pressed their lips into each other again. It was awkward and clumsy and beautiful all at once. The snow continued to drift around them, but they didn’t notice. Once their mouths found a common beat between them, they began to grab at each other’s hair, but were suddenly interrupted by a tiny voice “ahem”-ing. They broke off the kiss to discover Jason standing not five feet away, folding his arms as a disapproving father would.  
“So…I’m guessing we’re just gonna wait for the movie to come on TV, huh?”  
______________________________________________________________________________  
Cordelia sat on her mother’s couch clutching a glass of champagne, wearing a thick red turtleneck sweater. She had spent Christmas night grazing on appetizers and making small talk with her extended family. Yes, the bakery’s going fine. Yes, I’m still in Brooklyn. No, I’m not still dating that nice Micah boy (yes, Aunt Susan, I know, he’s cute, but it just didn’t work out). Once or twice throughout the night she had stolen a glance at Charlotte, who had convinced her to invite her over, to Cordelia’s initial chagrin. She was having a grand old time, chatting away with relatives and chugging wine as if it were the last of the worldwide supply. God, why was it so easy for her to get along with everybody? Suddenly she turned to her left to see Charlotte sitting next to her, laughing at something stuffy Aunt Karen had said. Her hand unconsciously drifted over Cordelia’s thigh. Cordelia gently removed it, got Charlotte’s attention, and softly shook her head. Charlotte nodded solemnly. So she couldn't dyke it up here. That's fine. It was just different. The family seemed like nice enough people otherwise. She put a hand on her lover's shoulder, a much less conspicuous display of affection, she figured, and nodded her head in the direction of the front door. After getting a nod of approval back from Cordelia, the two stood and made their way outside, ignoring the frigid Manhattan winds seeping into the house.  
"We're just gonna grab another bottle of merlot," Cordelia explained hastily to her passing mother.  
Once they were outside, and after checking that no nosy relatives were peeking through the windows, words began to pour from their mouths like the wine they had been chugging all night.  
"I'm sorry-" "No, don't- you just didn't-" "No, I feel bad-" "Char, please-" "Delia, I'm trying to-"  
They simultaneously had the urge to stop their lover's outpour with their lips, and followed it. For just a moment they forgot the Murphy family just behind the door not ten feet from where they stood, and didn't care if they saw, or what they would say if they did. All they could feel was the chill of the snow drifting around them, contrasting with the burn of their cheeks and lips. They broke it off for just a moment, met each other's eyes, and smiled. The frigid Manhattan winds stung their bare hands as they walked back inside, but it was soon remedied by Cordelia taking Charlotte's in hers. She entered her mother's living room, head held high, her girlfriend's hand in hers, unafraid. Whatever happened, it didn't matter as long as she was there.


	3. Winter 1981

III. A single snowflake awakens,  
shimmers,  
glows,  
watches the world with weary eyes…

Let us now for a moment imagine that the three couples are moving in unison with one another. For this brief moment, they are all connected. The scene begins as if straight out of a Hallmark card: a picturesque snowfall outside; a roaring fire inside. They drink cocoa, wear cozy sweaters, snuggle under warm blankets- all things couples do in the winter. One partner offers to massage the other's shoulders, to which they enthusiastically oblige. The massage gets deeper, and lower, and the recipient begins to groan rapturously. Perhaps the giver's hand creeps ever so slightly below the waistband. They kiss, softly at first, but as their heartbeats quicken and their hunger grows, so does the intensity of their lips' embrace.   
"Want to move up to the bedroom?" one asks, struggling to pull themselves away for even a moment.  
"Yes," the other breathes.  
They can barely keep their hands off one another as they move- removing clothing, running fingers through hair, or even just touching their lover's face- anything to just keep feeling them. Next thing they know, they find themselves naked in bed. They take just a moment to look in their lover's eyes and smile, appreciating how very fortunate they are to be doing this, and with this person. Then, soft kisses, beginning at the neck, and traveling all the way down. The frigid Manhattan winds continue to blow outside, but inside, their cheeks flush for entirely unrelated reasons. 

Yes.

Please.

Oh, FUCK.

Shh. Not so loud.

That's it, baby.

Harder.

Don't stop. 

I'm almost there.

Oh God.

 

Oh God.

 

 

OH GOD. 

 

When their senses have returned after a fraction of a second, they become conscious of their lover's sweaty body next to theirs, panting from exhaustion and satisfaction. When they are finally able to be touched without nearly cumming, they kiss again, sloppier than before.  One crawls into the other's lap, wrapping their legs around their waist, and their arms around their neck. They each reflect again on how very fortunate they are to be here...with them.

"You okay?"

"I will be. Just let me come down from heaven first."


	4. December 5th, 1983

"...darkens,  
settles,  
and disappears."  
Winter, Edward Esch

Mendel, Trina, and Jason enter the doorway around 7 pm. Trina carries a casserole dish, Mendel a bottle of champagne, and Jason his signature chessboard. He sets it down for just a moment and runs to hug Marvin first. He feels his ribs poking him underneath his baggy green sweater. Though they smile, it’s obvious to Jason how tired his father is just from looking in his eyes, but he says nothing. Charlotte and Cordelia come in from the kitchen, having spent all day with Marvin to help him clean up in preparation for the guests. They nearly tackle Jason in a hug when they see him. Trina gives Marvin a friendly peck on the cheek, feels his cheekbone nearly stab her, and gives him an understanding, solemn half-smile. The smell of Cordelia’s latest attempt at latkes wafts through the kitchen, and they give each other a knowing look and chuckle.  
Dinner begins, and Cordelia’s latkes actually turn out surprisingly well. She’s figured out how not to fry the shit out of them. Conversation begins haltingly. School’s going fine. Work’s good. I’ve been feeling a lot better lately, says Marvin, causing a momentary awkward silence. Jason remedies this by telling his tight knit family about his photography class at school, to which they respond with enthusiastic praise. It takes them all until just then to realize that Marvin has accidentally set one seat too many. Cordelia takes the liberty of standing and silently removing it, causing Marvin to stare down at his plate and bite his lip. Another awkward silence. He excuses himself upstairs, and doesn’t come down for what seems like hours. The family shift uncomfortably in their seats as they continue to chew, every once in a while stealing a glance upstairs. Charlotte, finally, stands and runs upstairs to his room. He is laying in bed, buried under his covers. She has found him in this state many times these past few months. She sits on the bed and pats him on the shoulder. Finally, he speaks.  
“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend for them. I’m ready.”  
“For what?”  
“We both know damn well for what.”  
Charlotte bites her lip and looks at the ceiling, fighting back tears. She hops off the bed and kneels at the side so she can look Marvin in the eyes.  
“Everything will be all right. I know things have sucked this past year, for all of us. Hell, even that's too polite. It's been fucking awful. I know things seem completely hopeless, but you know what? Giving up has never done anything for me, and it won't do anything for you either. So don't do it. Because I'm not giving up on my family.”

She takes his hand, and he closes his eyes. He sits up slowly, takes her arm, and is lead back downstairs.  
Mendel gives a toast to a prosperous new year and to their tight knit family. Trina has allowed Jason a glass of champagne, because why not, she says. Several, after clinking glasses, tilt theirs heavenward before drinking. When it is time to light the fifth candle on the menorah, Jason offers to do the honors. They gather near the window, bow their heads, and pray together, Marvin joining hands with Jason, Trina, and Charlotte.  
“Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech chaolam asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu l’had’lik ner shel Chanukah.”*  
Jason lifts his head for just a moment, surveys his family, save one, and takes one of his father’s hands, beginning a chain reaction until the six all stand in a circle, hands clasped in a bond which can never be broken. He speaks, swallowing the lump which has begun to gather in his throat.  
“Simeini chachotam alibechah, al z’roechah, ki azah chamavet ahavah.”**

The two remaining pairs of lovers squeeze each other's hands to assure the other that they are right here, that they will always be. Marvin, alone, does not get this closure. He is not sure that he will ever have it again. As the six unlikely lovers continue to stand in their circle, the frigid Manhattan winds blow forcefully beyond the four walls that hold them, but they are warmed with the knowledge that they are here together for this moment, however brief it may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hanukkah blessing- "Blessed art Thou, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, who has blessed us with mitzvot, and has commanded us to kindle the Hanukkah lights."  
> ** From Solomon 8:6- "Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm, for love is as strong as death."


End file.
